Things A Bright Girl Can Do
by Brillant
Summary: Hermione Granger is bored during the Christmas holidays, so Severus sets her a challenge. Funny, fluffy and, at times, a tiny bit OOC SS/HG. Now complete!
1. How to Keep a Bright Girl Entertained

_Author's Note: As I am currently waiting to begin my first year of university, I have absolutely loads of free time and, like Hermione, I am incredibly bored! Therefore, this crazy little idea sprung to mind. It's a multi-chaptered fic that's funny, fluffy and in parts a tiny bit OOC; if you aren't looking for any of these things, this story is definitely not for you! The book that is referred to throughout is real, and is called 211 Things a Bright Girl Can Do, written by Bunty Cutler! Every single thing that Hermione attempts throughout this fic is included in this book, and I think it's definitely worth a read! Anyway, on with the story. I've posted both the prologue and the first chapter, just to get it moving. Please read and review!_

* * *

_How to Keep a Bright Girl Entertained_

Hermione Granger was bored. It was an entirely new phenomenon which, at first, had been unrecognisable by Hermione. Ever since she had discovered the Wizarding World, the opportunity for boredom had never been presented to her – there had always been homework to complete, duties to be done, or Dark Wizards to overthrow. Therefore, when she found herself sitting on her bed with nothing to do, she wondered what on earth was going to happen to her. Several hours later, she discovered the answer – absolutely nothing. For three hours, Hermione sat on her bed in absolute discomfort; she crossed her legs and uncrossed them, folded her arms and unfolded them, and even took to making paper aeroplanes out of tissues from the box on her nightstand. Boredom had well and truly set in, and the very thought of it was driving her insane.

That morning, the students had left for the Christmas break. In previous years Hermione would have left too, but this year was different – she was an apprentice. After the war, Professor McGonagall had taken the position of headmistress following Albus' retirement, and had persuaded Professor Snape to offer her the first apprentice that Hogwarts had ever seen. She was about to complete the third year of her apprenticeship, and at the end of January it would be complete – she would become a fully-fledged Potions Mistress – and thus far she had enjoyed her work. The only downside was that, as an apprentice and therefore a member of staff, it meant that she had to stay at school for the holidays. She supposed that it would not have been _that _bad, were the students interesting or the staff tolerable for a long amount of time, but neither of these things were true. The only person whose company she _did _enjoy was Professor Snape, but he did not seem to share the sentiment.

With a sigh, Hermione stood up and left her bedroom. She knew that this would be a futile attempt but, in the desperate situation she found herself in, it seemed like an excellent idea. At least it was something to do that was a little more interesting than staring at the pattern on her duvet. Opening the door, she stepped into the sitting room that she shared with Professor Snape. He was sat on the sofa in front of the fire, his head bent over a thick book, and did not look up when she entered. Even when Hermione threw herself down next to him, his eyes did not move from the book. She gave an irritated sigh, throwing her head back and closing her eyes.

"What do you want?" He mumbled quietly, finally succumbing to her attempts at distraction. "I know you will not leave me be until I have appeased you a little, so make your request quickly and be on your way."

"Severus…I'm _bored_." He looked up at last, staring at her blankly with his dark eyes.

"And what, Miss Granger, do you expect me to do about that? I am your employer, not your babysitter." She gave a sigh and shifted petulantly in her seat.

"I don't_ know_…talk to me or something? You're the only person in school who doesn't have the mental age of a six year old or isn't at least half a century older than me. _Please_." She tried to look at him with what she imagined were 'puppy-dog' eyes – Lavender had always sworn that they made a man do anything she wanted him to. It seemed that Snape, however, was not included in this. She filed that away for future reference – Severus does not respond well to womanly wiles.

"I am busy and have no burning desire to converse with you, Miss Granger. I can, however, suggest something that may reduce your boredom a little."

Without a further word, he placed his book to one side and walked out of the sitting room and into his office. A moment later he returned, carrying a pink book that appeared to be of muggle manufacture. He handed it to her unsmilingly.

"211 Things a Bright Girl Can Do." He stated. "I confiscated it last week. Perhaps you can find something to entertain yourself with in there, seeing as you are a self-professed 'bright girl'." Hermione flicked to the contents, and saw that there were several different sections: The Queen of Cuisine, The Compleat Homemaker, and The Perfect Hostess, How to Be Completely Gorgeous, Jolly Hockeysticks and How to be bad. Hermione was certain that there was _more _than enough to entertain her there.

"I think this will do perfectly." She said, grinning at him. "In fact, I intend to complete a different task every day until New Year's Eve – starting tomorrow!"

"Fascinating." Hermione noticed, with a grin, that he had already retrieved his book and had buried his head in it.

"I may need your assistance now and then though, Severus."

"No." He flicked the page over testily.

"Unfortunately, sir, you don't have a choice! This was your idea after all, and tomorrow my challenge shall begin!"


	2. Task One & Task Two

_How to Polish a Good Table_

Severus woke up the next morning on the sofa, with a terrible crick in his neck and his book still resting on his lap. He had not been aware that he had fallen asleep, and he prayed that Miss Granger had not seen him so unguarded. Even though he had grown accustomed to (and, although he would never admit it, comfortable with) her presence, he still liked to maintain a distinct line between apprentice and master. Standing up, he gave a stretch and rubbed his eyes; the clock on the mantelpiece told him that it was 11:30. He had slept for a ridiculously long time. With a sigh, he headed off towards his bedroom, but a noise from the adjacent classroom attracted his attention. He froze for a moment, trying to figure out what on earth it could be, before charging full speed to discover which little ingrate had broken into his classroom whilst his back was turned.

What he saw when he opened his door was not what he had been expecting. In fact, despite his curiosity, he was a little disappointed. Hermione Granger stood in a scarlet dressing gown and bare feet, the book he had given her in one hand and a piece of toast in the other. His teaching desk had been pushed into the centre of the room (he presumed this had been the strange noise) and all of his parchment had been cleared from it. It stood on one of the student desks, along with various pieces of equipment that Granger had obviously brought with her.

"What in blue blazes are you doing to my classroom?" He barked. She turned to face him, that familiar mocking grin plastered on her face.

"Good morning, Severus! I'm just starting the first part of my challenge."

"How on _earth _does that involve moving my desk around? Is your challenge to become a complete and utter _nuisance_?" She simply bit her toast, chewed and swallowed, before looking at the book again.

"_How to polish a good table_. I noticed ages ago just how filthy your desk it, so I thought I'd do you a favour. I'm going to polish it with wax because, according to this book. It will 'bring up an attractive lustre'."

"You intend to polish my desk?" He asked, his voice empty of anything.

"Yes! Now shoo out of here! The last thing I need is you hovering over my shoulder." Snape snorted, before leaving the classroom without a further word.

When Hermione finished her toast, she dusted off her hands and moved over to the table that bore all of her equipment. Dobby had helped her collect everything together: a mixture of linseed oil and turpentine, steel wool, beeswax furniture polish, a clean cotton rag and a lintless cloth. First of all, she wiped the table gently with the oil and turpentine and removed it with steel wool; according to the book, this would remove all of the old varnish, and was necessary to make the desk look extraordinarily shiny. Once she had done that, she applied the wax polish to the table with the cotton rag and swept it on, finally buffing it with the soft lintless cloth. In total, it took her about an hour and a half until it was done to her exacting standards. She stood back to admire her handiwork – it glowed fantastically.

"Severus!" She shouted, grinning. "It's done!" Snape entered the room and stood next to her. For a moment, they both stared at the desk in silence, until he gave a sigh. She looked up at him. "Well?"

"I will own that it looks as good, perhaps even better, than when I first arrived at the school all of those years ago. I approve of the use of linseed oil; I quite enjoy the smell." Hermione grinned again.

"Excellent!" Picking up a quill from the pile of his things she had moved, she ticked the instructions inside the book. "I'm going to go and make a cup of tea. Would you like to come with me?"

"No. I shall stay here and tidy up the mess that you have caused. May I ask what it is you intend to do tomorrow, so as to prepare myself?" Hermione referred to the book, before looking up and grinning.

"Your assistance won't be needed for that one, and I'd like it to be a surprise." She left the room with a satisfied smile on her face, leaving Severus feeling slightly concerned as to what a 'surprise' might entail, yet more curious than he would like to admit.

* * *

_How to do a Plait Fran__ç__ais_

The next morning Severus sat at breakfast in the Great Hall, eating his bacon sandwich, and trying to ignore the niggling sensation in his stomach. He had knocked on Miss Granger's door that morning, inviting her to go to breakfast with him, but she had refused without even opening her door. She had simply shouted that she was 'busy' and urged him to go along without her. He had tried not to take it as a personal affront, but he was certainly not used to being refused – especially by _her_. On any normal occasion she was begging him to do things with her – come to dinner with me Severus, recommend me a book Severus, _speak _to me Severus – and it was more than a little irksome. But now that she had refused to accept his offer…well…he felt a little frustrated and rather embarrassed.

Interrupting his thoughts, Minerva came and sat down on his right hand side. She beamed at him, which he responded to with a slight inclination of his head.

"How are you this morning, Severus?"

"I was rather well until you arrived, Minerva." Her smile slipped, and she gave an agitated sigh as she reached for the teapot.

"Must you always be so rude, Severus?"

"I am not rude, but simply honest. Do excuse me if I ignore you for the rest of breakfast – I am not in the mood for suffering fools this morning."

"Miserable old bat." She muttered under her breath, but fully intending him to hear it.

They were silent at the table for a moment. Severus kept his eyes down, focusing on the tablecloth as he sipped his coffee. Suddenly, however, the silence was broken, as Minerva let out a gasp. Snape looked up to see that Miss Granger had entered and was approaching the table. He tried to distinguish what exactly she had been busy doing; there were no tell-tale ink stains on her hands, no residue smells of a brewing potion and no sign that she had been doing anything else unusual. With a small smile in his direction, she came and sat down in the free chair next to him.

"Good morning Severus." He noticed that she touched her hair tentatively, as she helped herself to cereal.

"My dear Miss Granger, you look terrific!" Minerva gasped, leaning behind him to see the younger girl. "How ever did you manage it?"

"It was terribly easy, really; I just followed a few instructions. I can lend you them at a later date, if you'd like to try it for yourself."

"Oh no dear, I'm far too old to pull that off! I'm certain some other members of staff would like to give it a try, though, some of the students too. You could start a whole new trend!" After a few seconds, Minerva turned to Severus. "Doesn't she look lovely?"

Snape looked at Hermione for a moment, studying her face. He could see nothing really different about her. She was wearing a jumper which he had seen several times and an average pair of jeans; she did not appear to be wearing any new cosmetics and her hair…oh.

"Your hair is different." He commented. Granger smiled and nodded slowly. "What do they call this…style?" He waved his hand flippantly.

"It's a French Plait." Hermione replied. "And that was my task for today – how to do a Plait Français."

Both Hermione and Minerva were staring at him expectantly. At first he wondered what on earth they wanted; did he have tomato ketchup on his nose, again? He touched it nervously, but it suddenly dawned on him – both were expecting a compliment. He shifted in his seat a little, clearing his throat. Severus had always been terrible at this, particularly when…well, when the subject actually did look rather pretty. Trying to recall what his peers used when trying to compliment a female, he looked at her again, his face schooled into a blank expression as usual.

"It is very fetching, Miss Granger." Hurriedly looking back down at his empty plate, he completely missed the meaningful look that Minerva flashed at him, and the pretty pink blush that spread over Hermione's cheeks.


	3. Task Three & Task Four

_How to do a Cartwheel_

The next day's challenge was no less surprising than the previous two had been. On the third day, Severus was returning to his rooms from a short shopping trip in Hogsmeade, his small frame shivering underneath his thick robes and snow lightly dusting his black hair. As he pushed open the front door of the school and stepped into the Entrance Hall, he was surprised to find his apprentice standing in the middle of it. She was wearing a slip of a vest and a tiny pair of shorts that were more suited to a Mediterranean summer than a Scottish winter, and she was studying that blasted book intently with a worried look on her face. The sound of the door closing, however, distracted her and she looked up quickly.

"Hello Severus, back so soon?"

"You shall catch your death if you continue to dress in such a manner." Hermione laughed.

"I've cast a warming charm. And besides, I need clothing I can move in for my challenge; robes certainly wouldn't have been suitable. Speaking of the challenge...could you help me?" He supposed that he did not have much of a choice.

As he approached her, she reached out her hand and gave the book to him. He took it and looked down at the page, reading the title with much amusement: How to Do a Cartwheel. He had presumed that such an activity was a requisite part of every childhood; in fact, even he had performed cartwheels when he was younger. He looked at Granger.

"Where is the challenge in this?" It isn't much of a task if you can do it already. She crossed her arms and scowled at him, looking a little embarrassed.

"That's the problem – I _can't_ do it! I was the only one at primary school who was unable to do them; I just had to watch, whilst the other girls flung themselves around the playground."

"And how may I assist you in this?"

"Read the instructions for me, and I'll try and perform them properly." She grinned at him mockingly. "Don't worry, I won't expect a demonstration!"

Snape watched as she went to the back of the hall. She stood facing him, unable to hide the trepidation that was displayed so clearly on her face. It seemed that physical activity was not Miss Granger's strong point; she was appalling at flying, and clearly not very good at muggle activities either. But then he could not understand how she maintained her figure; she was by no means thin, but had a rather shapely and pleasing form. Particularly in those shorts. Realising that she was waiting for him, he cleared his throat and looked at the book.

"Raise your arms to 10 and 2 O'clock." She did it. "Step forwards slightly with the left leg, your knee bent a little. Bend at the waist, reaching towards the ground with your left hand and kick your right leg into the air, up above your head. Follow quickly with the right hand and, as it touches the ground, your left leg should have left the ground. Momentum should carry you."

He watched, impressed, as she made a complete cartwheel. When she returned to standing position, she turned and beamed at him.

"That was fantastic! If only Molly Forde could see me now, she wouldn't tease me half as much! I think I might try it again." Severus watched once more as she repeated the motions, sending her through another well-executed cartwheel.

"It seems you have got the hang of it, Miss Granger."

"I think I'll give it one more turn, just to make sure!" This time she seemed intent to put all of her energy into it, and practically flung herself onto the ground. Whilst at first she seemed to have been successful once again, as she was ending her cartwheel she gave a little wobble and, unfortunately, collided directly with Severus.

The force that she had put into her cartwheel sent them both careering onto the tiled floor of the entrance hall; her small shriek echoed around the room, mingling with Snape's unguarded 'oomph' as her small hands hit his stomach. Somehow, amidst the tangling of limbs, Severus ended led on his back with Hermione led on top of him, her arms around his neck as though she were clinging on for dear life. He supposed that he should be angry (after all she wasn't exactly light and it was a rather compromising position) but he found that he was not. In fact, he rather _liked _the feeling of her warm body on top of his. Suddenly, he remembered that, however intelligent and pleasing to converse with she was, however pretty her hair had looked the day before and her legs looked in those shorts, and however _warm _she was, she was his apprentice and only three years ago had been his student.

"Are you quite satisfied, Miss Granger?" He muttered, scowling. She blushed furiously and sat up, springing as far away from him as she could possibly go.

"I'm terribly sorry, Professor! I didn't mean…"

"Come Miss Granger, we must get up off the floor before anyone sees us." He stood up and dusted off his cloak, before extending his hand and helping her to her feet. He smirked at her, as she tried to hide the embarrassed flush on her face. "Perhaps tomorrow won't be quite as dangerous?" He asked. She smiled.

"Definitely not. In fact, I rather think it will be quite pleasant…"

* * *

_How to Make Authentic Turkish Delight_

Severus was more than a little confused when, after searching every room in the dungeons for Miss Granger, he only found a scribbled note that read: come to the kitchen. Frowning, he made his way to the concealed entrance, pondering on all of the different things it might be. He knew, of course, that it was something to do with cooking, but the question was _what _she would be making. She had never before referred to any particular culinary talent, so he could only hope that she was not going to poison him with some unusual concoction.

When he stepped into the kitchen, the first thing he saw was a House Elf, who looked positively furious and was standing in his way. Snape did not recognise the elf, so he simply stared at it.

"Professor Snape, sir, we is all very angry! The apprentice is cooking sir and she is not letting the House Elves cook for her! She is saying that she must cook and we is to leave her alone! Is you here to stop her sir?" Snape gave a small sigh.

"Could you direct me to her, please, elf?"

"Of course, sir. I is taking you to her right away, sir." The elf started walking deeper into the kitchen, and Snape followed it. Several rather large pairs of eyes followed him unblinkingly, looking relieved that he was there to solve the problem. He wasn't certain how they would react when he did not do a thing to stop his wayward apprentice.

Hermione had her back to him as he approached. She was wearing shorts and a t-shirt again – he still disapproved, but supposed they were ideal for keeping cool in the terrible heat of the kitchen – and was humming a song he didn't recognise. The elf that he stood next to cleared its throat, and his apprentice spun round. She grinned at Snape, before nodding at the elf.

"Thank you for bringing Professor Snape to me, Drippy."

"You is _not_ welcome!" The elf snapped back, before fleeing away rather quickly. Hermione motioned for Snape to sit down on a stool that stood by the counter she was working on. He did, giving him the ideal opportunity to see what it was she had made. At that current moment, she was slicing what looked like a large block of chocolate into cubes.

"According to this book," she said, licking a stray bit of chocolate that had attached itself to her finger, "Turkish Delight is the result of 'a delicious alchemy'. I rather liked that little passage when I read it, don't you?"

"You've made Turkish Delight. That's my – "

"Favourite, yes…I know. You told me a few months ago, and when I saw the recipe in this book…" She smiled at him a little shyly, "I couldn't resist." Inexplicably, Snape suddenly felt remarkably strange. No one had ever done anything for him like that before, at least without asking for something in return. As Hermione placed a small cube onto a plate and passed it to him, he tried to swallow the lump that had lodged itself awkwardly into his throat. She watched expectantly, as he put the delicacy into his mouth. Snape could not resist the urge to smile at its taste. It was wonderful. Hermione seemed to be a little on edge as she watched him finish.

"Very well made, Miss Granger." Her grin widened.

"Thank you very much, Severus! I'm glad you enjoy it, because there is rather a lot here…You shall have to eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner!"

"I'm certain Minerva would appreciate some. And…" He licked his lips. "I of course would like some for myself."

Just at that moment, a group of ten House Elves approached them. The leader, who according to Hermione was named Drippy, stepped forwards and tapped her very angrily on the shoulder.

"You is leaving now. _Both _of you. We is only allowing Professor Snape in here because we is thinking he would shout. As he is not, we is asking you to leave." Hermione's eyes widened and she looked at Snape, who was equally as shocked.

"But…"

"Take your things and leave. We is not wanting you cooking in here again!" Hermione picked up the tray, before she and Snape left the kitchen, chased all the way by the very angry herd of House Elves.

* * *

_Author's Note: Thanks to those that read and reviewed the last chapter - it certainly is an encouragement. This chapter, in fact, this entire fic is riddled with clichés from SS/HG fics, but also from wider popular culture. I don't particularly care, because I intended it that way - after all, clichés they may be, but no less entertaining! Anyway. Please read and review etc. etc. _


	4. Task Five & Task Six

_Author's Note: Many thanks for those who read and reviewed the last chapter! Hopefully this won't disappoint! :) As ever, please read and review!_

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_How to Blag Your Way in Classical Music_

The next day, Hermione and Severus went to London on an errand. It was imperative that they replenish the stock cupboards for the new term and, as they would probably be so busy after Christmas Day, then was the only time to do it. They spent three hours walking around the small apothecary, selecting the best ingredients and adding them to their mounting bill. After their wizarding errands, Hermione persuaded Snape to pay a short visit to muggle London. They wandered around Covent Garden for a while, until Hermione spotted a little tea room that she was determined they should visit. As Snape was in such a good mood with their purchases, he did not need to be persuaded much.

As they sat opposite one another in the twee tearoom, looking incredibly out of place in their magic attire, Hermione took her opportunity to complete her challenge for the day.

"Severus…do you like music?" Snape looked at her, evidently a little puzzled, before slowly nodding his head.

"Yes, Miss Granger. Is there a particular reason for this question?" Hermione swiped some cream from the top of her hot chocolate with her index finger, before removing it again with a small flick of her tongue.

"Not really. Do you like any particular era of music?" Severus thought for a moment, before giving a sigh.

"I suppose I find Baroque music pleasing, now and then."

"Ah yes. An excellent era for the British and the Germans – Purcell, Farnaby…and of course Bach and Handel."

"Indeed…" He raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a particular favourite?"

"Oh certainly!" She replied, grinning at him. He started to wonder what exactly she was up to; these were, after all, rather strange questions. "The romantic era is undoubtedly my favourite: Spohr, Liszt, Chopin…the list is endless!"

"Miss Granger, why do I have a feeling that you are up to something?"

She looked at the table for a moment, before looking at him again through her eyelashes, her eyes wide with innocence. But suddenly she faltered, and tossed her head back with a laugh.

"It was today's task; blag your way in classical music. I don't know anything about music, really! I started playing the violin when I was 8 but…well…I got bored of it."

"That's a terrible shame, Miss Granger." Severus looked around hesitantly, as though someone nearby would reassure him that he was right in what he was about to do. "Perhaps, when we return to school, you should listen to some of my music." Hermione smiled at him, and for some unfathomable reason it made his heart skip.

"Would you listen with me, sir? I cannot very well learn if I don't have a teacher, after all."

"Well…I…" He hesitated for a moment. He had to restock the cupboard, finish some marking, not to mention he had a particularly interesting article to read, but…well…it _would _be enjoyable, and he had the rest of the holidays to do those other things…

"Of course, Miss Granger. I think we shall start with the Middle Ages…"

* * *

_How to Handle a Snoring Man_

For the first time since she had begun her challenge, Hermione was stuck for which task to complete. She had been through the book several times, but nothing really jumped out at her – none of the cooking ones seemed any good, the craft items were a little bit boring and the others, well, they just weren't relevant. Sighing, she walked into the sitting room and sat down on the sofa. She hadn't slept very well the night before – her mind had been full of strange dreams – and she was up terribly early; breakfast hadn't even begun yet. Folding her arms, she rested her head against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes; perhaps she would be able to get some sleep with a change of location. She had been there for only five minutes, and was on the brink of drifting into slumber, when a rather large snort broke the silence.

Hermione's eyes snapped open, and she looked around to search for the source of the noise. Another snort. Narrowing her eyes, she stood up and followed the sound, only to come to a very surprising conclusion of just where it was coming from: Snape's bedroom. She stifled a chortle as she pressed her ear to the door, hearing more snoring and snorting than she had ever imagined possible. Snape just did not seem like a snorer to her. Suddenly, the small smile on her face grew to a rather cheeky grin. There was a section in her book about this – How to Handle a Snoring Man. It fit perfectly, and was the ideal way to complete her challenge for the day. After returning to her room to collect the book, she pushed open Snape's door and crept silently into his bedroom.

It was strange to see him this way. He led flat on his back, his arms spread wide, with his mouth hanging slightly open. Hermione stood for a moment and watched him, despite the fact that it made her feel slightly uncomfortable. The duvet came to the middle of his stomach, leaving the rest of his chest bare to the cool air of the bedroom. Hermione swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, as she was overwhelmed with an urge to crawl under the covers with him...he looked so warm and inviting. Ignoring the fact that her face was flushing red, she stepped forwards and consulted the book. Unfortunately, many of the suggestions inside the book were how to _prevent _snoring which, standing in his room listening to him snore away, was not helpful. The only thing she could possibly do now was…hit him with a pillow.

Tentatively, Hermione stepped closer to the bed. She was grateful that he appeared to still be sleeping deeply, for his reaction would be horrific, were he to wake. He would no doubt cancel her apprenticeship and fling her from the castle before she even had time to collect her things. Slipping the spare pillow from the bed, she gripped it in both hands and moved round to his side of the bed. Being so close to him did nothing to abate this strange flush of emotions. She could actually feel the heat radiating from him, the air that escaped his mouth brushed her cheek. The very thought of it was making her blush. Shaking her head, she took a step backwards and lifted the pillow above her head. She closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath, before bringing down the pillow with a thud. As the pillow made contact with Snape's face, he gave one last grunt of protest before turning on his side and slipping into a noiseless sleep.

Hermione flung the pillow back on the bed, before fleeing into the sitting room. She shut the door behind her and flopped onto the sofa, giggling quietly at the triumph of having shut Severus Snape up by means of swatting him with a pillow. But as she led there, still breathless from the rush of it all, she realised that it wasn't just her task that had affected her so. It was _him_. Rolling onto her side to face the door that led to his bedroom, Hermione gave a sigh as she finally admitted the truth. She fancied him. She, Hermione Jean Granger, was crazy about Professor Severus Snape. It had started ages ago, but it was only recently that she had begun to realise how strong her feelings really were. It had all started when he had said that her hairstyle was 'fetching' and then that day when she had fallen atop of him during the cartwheels...and the look on his face as he savoured the Turkish Delight, so surprised as he was that she had remembered it was his favourite...the very thought of it all made her feel a little giddy. It was complete madness, she knew, but she just couldn't help it.

Hermione grabbed a cushion from behind her, and wrapped her arms tightly around it. If she pressed her nose against it and inhaled deeply enough, she could almost smell him...

Approximately an hour later, she felt herself been tentatively shaken, and opened her eyes to see Snape hovering over her. He looked slightly bemused as Hermione jumped up; tossing the cushion away from her that she had still been cuddling when she awoke.

"Good morning, Miss Granger...interesting place to sleep, I must say. What is the matter with your bed?"

"I...nothing...I couldn't sleep so..." He smirked as she blushed, brushing a loose curl away from her face.

"I see." He shifted uncomfortably, and Hermione noticed that he was wearing his dressing gown. "What is your task for today?"

"I've already done it." She blurted.

"Ah...what was it?" Hermione smiled a little nervously, but her eyes were wide and glinted with amusement.

"I think I'd much prefer to keep it a secret, if that's all the same to you sir."

"Very well..." Severus turned and walked back towards the bedroom, before turning to face Hermione again. "By the by, Miss Granger, I would prefer it if you did not sleep in such close proximity to my door – you have the tendency to snore _remarkably_ loudly."


	5. Task Seven & Task Eight

_How to Descend a Staircase in High Heels_

Hermione stood at the top of the staircase in the Great Hall with the feeling that she was about to be sick. For most of her life, Hermione had been known as a 'sensible' girl, and being sensible usually came with a uniform. Sensible hair, sensible clothes, and sensible shoes. That was Hermione from head to toe. As she had been pretty much conditioned to stay away from the dangerous and the risqué, Hermione had had little experience with high heels. This was all about change. She was going to own a pair of heels, _and _she was about to walk gracefully down a sweeping staircase wearing them.

Having transfigured a simple pair of flat black pumps into a red four inch stiletto with ankle strap, Hermione teetered towards the edge of the stairs like she was wearing a pair of stilts. She held the book in her hand and read the instructions for the fourth or fifth time, trying to remember how to negotiate those stairs without looking like a fool or breaking her neck. With her right hand, she gripped onto the banister and turned her body slightly, placing her at an angle to the staircase – according to the book, this was the best way to keep her stability. The whole foot was supposed to touch the step, rather than the heel first, and it should strike perpendicular to the step. Holding her head high and flinging her shoulders back, Hermione took the first few steps that took her to the middle of the staircase.

Just as she was about to step again, however, the bang of a door announced that she would no longer be alone. She panicked, for what reason she was not entirely sure, and soon found herself frozen in place on the staircase – she was too frightened to try ascending the stairs again, and absolutely petrified to continue descending them. At that moment, a familiar black figure started to climb the stairs towards her. His head was bent and his eyes focused on the floor, and so he had not noticed that she was glued to the staircase.

"Severus!" she squealed, just as he was about to step up and knock her over completely. His head whipped up to look at her.

"Why are you standing on the stairs screaming at innocent people?" He asked, glaring at her. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

"I'm stuck!" She squealed again. "I can't move anywhere!"

"Why ever not?" She simply pointed at her feet.

Snape's eyes flicked down and he took in the enhanced appearance of her shoes. When his eyes met hers again, he gave her a withering look of incredulity.

"Those things are hideous. Why would you want to wear shoes like that? You could break your neck."

"They cause 'the buttocks to tense, emphasising the calf muscles, add height and make you walk in that quintessentially poised, feminine way!'" She babbled, her cheeks growing pinker as the moments passed. She was becoming flustered, balancing so precariously as she was. "At least...that's what the book says."

"I see. Whilst I do not deny that all of these things are_ essential_," he said in a sarcastic tone, one eyebrow raised, "I am of the opinion that your own safety, and the ability to walk properly, are of utmost importance." Hermione gave a dejected sigh.

"Alright! Fine! These shoes are ridiculous and I ought never to try and dress like a sexy, sophisticated woman! Are you happy now? Will you finally help me to the bottom?"

"Very well." Severus replied, trying to hide his amused smirk but failing gravely.

When she was finally at the bottom, after what seemed like a torturous trek clinging onto Snape's arm for safety, Hermione pointed her wand at the shoes and transfigured them back to normal. She wiggled her toes and looked at them, a moue of disappointment on her lips.

"Please do not say that you prefer the others?" Severus drawled, horrified.

"Of course they weren't as comfortable, but...these are so boring."

"How often do you look at other people's shoes? I seldom do it myself."

"Well...hardly ever, but that isn't the point."

"Actually, it is. Miss Granger, I am _more _than certain that is possible to be a 'sexy and sophisticated woman' in plain, simple, _boring_ shoes. Wobbling from left to right and clinging on to someone for support are _not _attractive traits. Now, are you able to walk back to the dungeons alone so I can go to tea with Minerva, or must I accompany you back?"

"I think I can walk quite well on my own. Thank you, Severus."

Hermione found that she descended the stairs to the dungeon with more spring in her step, and a smile on her face, in her plain, simple, _boring _shoes.

* * *

_How to Invite a Gentleman to Tiffin_

Hermione sat in the armchair in front of the fire that roared happily, enjoying the peace of the sitting room. She had developed a real love for Bach since Snape had formally introduced them a few days before, and was quite enjoying the Prelude of his first Cello Suite as she prepared to complete her task for that day. She intended to invite Ron over for Tiffin. Despite the fiery end to their short-lived relationship at the end of seventh year, the pair were still quite good friends, and she had gifts to give to him to pass on to the rest of the family. Hermione supposed she had cheated a little, and had already given Ron a time to come over for a small bite to eat, but she was determined to write him a formal invitation to Tiffin too.

Balanced precariously on her knee was a beautifully elaborate piece of parchment that she had purchased from Scrivenshaft's, and she held a quill that was charmed to appear as though the writing had been embossed in gold. Hermione poised it over the parchment, before gracefully writing her invitation to Ron.

Miss Hermione Granger presents her compliments to Mr Ronald Weasley,

And hopes to have the pleasure of his company to Tiffin on

The 23rd December 1999.

Répondez, s'il vous plaît.

Three hours later, there was a knock on the door, and Hermione answered it to find Ron standing there with a sheepish grin on his face. She let out a delighted squeal, and threw her arms around his neck as a form of greeting.

"It's so good to see you!" She cried, beckoning him inside. "Sit down and warm yourself up, it's freezing outside!"

"I received that weird letter you sent me earlier...what the bloody hell was all that about?" Hermione laughed, and picked up the book from its prized position on the coffee table.

"I was bored one evening, and Severus challenged me to entertain myself using this book. I've completed a challenge every day, and today's just happened to be that 'weird letter'."

"Oh right." Ron picked up a piece of the chocolate cake that Hermione had lain out for the occasion, and wolfed it in only three large bites. "And Snape helps you with these things, does he?"

"_Professor _Snape to you, Ronald, and yes he does. He's been very co-operative, actually."

"Weird. He must be going soft in his old age."

"He isn't _old_!" Hermione exclaimed, aghast. "He'll be turning 40 in January, and that isn't old at all!"

"Suppose not."

They didn't talk about Snape for the rest of the time they spent together, but it was all Hermione could think about. _Was_ he too old? Hermione didn't really think so, but then she was sure that thousands would disagree. She couldn't really understand why an age gap would be such a problem, because she and Severus were very similar in spite of their difference in age. They had similar interests, a similar enthusiasm for hard work and study, and they could discuss some things for hours on end...should she ignore that, simply because he was a little bit older? Hermione was thoroughly wound up about it by the time it came to wish Ron goodbye, and she was stilted as they hugged in the doorway.

"Have I upset you or something, Hermione?"

"No, not at all! Why do you ask?"

"You just seem a bit...miserable, that's all." For one moment, Hermione considered telling him everything, but she knew that it would only end in a blazing row and a heated exchange of strong words. Instead, she sighed.

"It's just being stuck here away from everybody, that's all. Give everyone my love, won't you?"

"Course I will." Ron grinned and opened his arms. "Give us another hug?"

As they shared an embrace, the door opened to reveal a furious Snape standing in the doorway. Hermione sprung away from Ron as if she'd been scorched with a hot iron, and gaped at Snape with very flushed cheeks.

"I wasn't expecting you back for another hour!" She gasped; Hermione had grown accustomed to planning visits from Ron or Harry when Snape _wasn't _around. It was the simplest way to avoid a row.

"So I see." Snape stepped past them both, shooting a glare at Ron as he did.

"I was just leaving, sir." Ron said quietly, rolling his eyes. "Have a nice Christmas Hermione, you too Professor." He gave Hermione a quick peck on the cheek, before stepping out into the hallway and shutting the door behind him.

Hermione found herself feeling somewhat nervous as she walked over to the sofa and sat down. Snape had settled himself in the armchair, and was busying himself by removing his gloves and kicking off his boots. As a means by which to distract herself, Hermione waved her wand and struck up the record player once more. As it had done almost constantly for the past few days, the sound of Bach's music once again flooded the room.

"_Must _we listen to this again?" Severus barked angrily. "Is your task for the day to drive me to murder?"

"No." Hermione muttered. "It was to invite a gentleman to Tiffin, if you must know, which is why Ron was here."

"So you aren't seeing the imbecilic little ingrate again then?"

"As a matter of fact, I am _not_!" She retorted hotly. But if I were, it would be none of your business!"

"You are quite mistaken – it would be entirely my business! If you are to flaunt a string of young lovers in and out of my rooms, I have a right to know!"

"I do _not _have a 'string of young lovers', but I cannot promise the same about bloody old ones!"

Hermione felt her face suddenly turn red, and her mouth snapped shut with an audible 'clack'. Severus stared at her quietly, clearly at a loss as to what he should say. Thoroughly mortified, she couldn't bear to stay near him for another moment. Hermione jumped to her feet and rushed over to the door, grabbing her cloak from the stand on her way out.

"Hermione, where are you going?" He demanded, but the anger had left his voice. With the embarrassment still ringing in her ears, Hermione clumsily pulled on her cloak and opened the door.

"Out. For a walk. I shan't be back any time soon, so don't wait for me to accompany you to dinner." She slammed the door behind her, before walking a few steps down the hall. Suddenly, however, she stopped in a sort of dazed shock.

He called her _Hermione_?

* * *

_Author's Note: Thanks to every reader and reviewer - i can't emphasise enough how great it feels to know people are reading! Please read and review this chapter too! :)_


	6. Christmas Eve & Christmas Day

_How to Make and Steam a Proper Christmas Pudding_

The row of the day before was hastily forgotten after dinner, and they spent the rest of the evening educating Hermione further on her newfound love of classical music. The next evening, after the Christmas Eve dinner, Snape stood in the hallway and watched, as Hermione lugged several bags stuffed with ingredients into the potions classroom. She arranged everything on the desk, alongside a giant cauldron which she said was necessary for her task for that day. Severus was more than a little confused, for she had adamantly told him that she required his help, and had made it quite clear that he had to assist her wearing clothing which he was willing to 'get quite dirty'. He was rather puzzled as to what kind of atrocities her task for the day entailed.

One by one, she removed the ingredients from the shopping bags and lined them up on the work surface. With a wave of her wand, they weighed and measured themselves, before rearranging themselves on the table again.

"Isn't that cheating?" Snape had asked, to which Hermione smiled sheepishly.

"I suppose it is, but it really speeds up the process if we do it with magic. We still get to do the best bits though."

"I'll take your word for it." He replied quietly, staring once more at the ingredients. "Nutmeg, suet, raisins, sultanas, brandy...what sort of a potion is this?"

"It isn't a potion at all!" Hermione laughed. "You and I, Severus, are making a Christmas pudding!"

Dubious was perhaps an understatement for what Severus was feeling as Hermione began giving him instructions. She handed him a sieve and the measured flour, spice and nutmeg, before standing back and watching with an anticipatory grin. As she giggled whilst he slowly and carefully sieved the ingredients, a wicked plan began to form in his mind. Slowly turning to face her, he raised the sieve and held it inches from her face.

"Is this correct, Hermione?" In one swift movement, he brought his hand down to meet the sieve with a 'thump', sending the mixture to burst from the sieve in a puff of white smoke. Hermione let out a squeal, bursting into a coughing fit, before pinching some of the flour between her fingers and flicking it at Severus' face.

From then on, the making of the Christmas pudding turned into a game of one-upmanship and fun. Severus could soon see why she had mentioned mess, for they were both covered in flour, tossing sultanas and raisins at the other when they tried to turn their attention to the recipe. After the specified measure of brandy had been added to the mixture, Hermione summoned two glasses from the rooms and poured them both a small tipple. She giggled quietly as she handed the glass over to Snape, and he noticed that she had a tiny piece of orange peel stuck in the midst of her matted hair. He did not give it a second thought as he reached over and plucked it out. Until, of course, his hand was brushing against her cheek as he pulled it back. She blushed, before quickly turning her head to avoid his gaze.

"I think we should put the mixture on to boil now." She said quietly.

"I...yes...yes certainly."

Once they had set the pudding to boil, they returned in silence to their rooms. Snape was not surprised when Hermione went directly to her bedroom and shut the door behind her, nor was he surprised when she did not come out of the room for the rest of the evening. Severus sat slumped in front of the sofa, another glass of brandy in hand, as he stared into the fireplace. He had not enjoyed himself quite so much as he had that evening for a very long time. He hadn't laughed so much, and it had been the first time in his life that he had ever had what could be classed as a 'food fight'. And he had never, ever enjoyed a woman's company as much as he had enjoyed Hermione's.

_Hermione_. It had not gone unnoticed by him, just the day before, that he had spoken her name aloud for the very first time. He was certain that she hadn't even noticed at all, for she hadn't mentioned it or asked him to continue using it. In fact, she had behaved as if the whole of his irrational behaviour hadn't happened. His _jealous _behaviour. Snape gave a sigh and covered his eyes with his hand. How had he let himself get to that stage? Mooning over a girl who was young enough to be his daughter, revelling in the feel of her cheek against his hand and remembering fondly the feeling of her led atop him in the hallway that day.

But she had blushed, hadn't she? Surely that meant something, although he couldn't be entirely sure what. And why had she locked herself away, sulking like a sullen teenager? He couldn't understand _that _either. It seemed almost unnecessary to say it, but he really didn't understand Hermione Granger at all. He would like to though. Yes, he would definitely like to.

* * *

"Merry Christmas, Hermione."

Snape handed the small box to Hermione with more than a little trepidation. He was unsure as to why this exchange of gifts seemed like such a gigantic event – after all, they had exchanged Christmas and Birthday presents for the past two years of her apprenticeship, so what made this year any different? Her wide eyes as she inspected the box told him the answer. It simply hadn't meant anything before, but now...well, he didn't really like to linger on it. He watched as Hermione prodded the ribbon that was tied around the box, her head tilted to one side and a little smile on her face. "Is something amiss?" Snape asked quietly.

"No, not at all! Did you fix this bow with magic, Severus? Or did the shop-assistant do it?" Ah. He had rather hoped that she wouldn't notice the lopsided, crumpled, poorly-tied ribbon. It had been a silly, sentimental gesture on his part, with the notion that she wouldn't even realise.

"No...I tied it myself...by hand. I apologise that it is a little...untidy."

"It's lovely." She said, smiling. "I don't want to undo it or tear the paper."

"But that would rather negate the point of the gift."

She smiled and undid the ribbon carefully and slowly. Taking the utmost pain to remove the paper without tearing it, she reached the plain cardboard box in which he had stored her gift. Snape watched, almost in pain with the slow speed at which she did it, as she removed the small bottle made of a stunning emerald glass.

"What is it?" She asked, removing the stopper and inhaling. "It smells beautiful...did you make this yourself?"

"Yes. It's perfume. I wasn't certain which scents you would prefer, so I was simply guided by my own preference."

"I can smell Bergamot, is that right?" He nodded, and felt a sudden rush of relief as she smiled. "I like it very much; I shall wear it when we go to the Great Hall for dinner! Now for your gift, although I'm certain it isn't as lovely as the one you've given me."

She handed him a thin envelope, on which she had written his name in a curly, flowing hand. Severus did not open it slowly or deliberately, but simply tore it open and removed the two small slips of card that were sat inside. She was evidently anxious about her gift; Severus could see it on her face as she smiled nervously at him. He looked carefully at the card.

"Tickets?" He asked. "Muggle tickets?"

"They're for a performance of Die Zauberflöte in London next month. You played a few of the songs for me, so I presumed you might like to see it...I got two in case you wanted to take someone with you..." She sighed, frowning. "Do you like it?"

"Yes. Thank you very much."

"Any idea as to who you might take?" She asked, smiling slightly.

Severus panicked. It was these sort of situations to which he was completely unaccustomed and utterly useless. Was Miss Granger, in purchasing two of these tickets and enquiring as to whom he would take, suggesting that she wished to accompany him? Or was she simply being polite? He silently cursed his inability to understand women, and decided to answer with the choice that would cause fewer problems.

"I think I shall ask Minerva, she is also quite the fan of Mozart." Instantly, Granger's face dropped. The smile quivered, forming a slight grimace of disappointment, and Snape knew immediately that he had made the wrong decision. But he could not change his mind now and offer the other ticket to her, for that would make him seem completely insincere! As he opened his mouth to speak, Hermione clambered to her feet from her position by the fireplace.

"I was going to wait until after dinner, but the Christmas pudding is ready now. Shall I fetch it? We could have it for lunch?"

She hurried out of the room before waiting for his answer, coming back ten minutes later with a rather impressive pudding sitting in the centre of a bowl. She placed it down on the coffee table, stood back and pointed her wand at it. Suddenly, the pudding burst into a bright blue flame, and Granger gave a laugh of celebration.

"Fantastic!" She said, grinning at him. "I suppose this is my challenge for the day, really."

"Oh? What exactly?"

"How to eat an entire Christmas pudding!" She laughed again, before bending down and serving two large portions, handing one of them to Severus.

"I wonder who shall get the lucky sickle." He asked, lifting a full spoon to his mouth.

"We shall just have to eat it and see, I suppose!"

They ate in silence for a few moments, except for a few appreciative mumbles now and then, until Hermione suddenly yelped. Slowly, she placed two fingers into her mouth and removed the silver sickle with a small smile.

"I guess this means I get to make a wish." She said. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply for a moment, before opening them again and tucking back into her pudding.

"What did you wish for?" Suddenly, she looked more than a little sheepish, as she balanced her spoon on the edge of the dish.

"You oughtn't to tell what you wish for – it won't come true." Snape raised an eyebrow and smirked a little mockingly.

"I have never heard such a thing before, but perhaps that explains why none of my wishes have ever come true." Hermione smiled at him warmly.

"Happy Christmas, Severus."

* * *

_Author's Note: Thanks, as ever, to those who read and reviewed the last chapter! As you have no doubt noticed, Hermione only has one challenge in this chapter. That's because, according to the recipe in the book, the preperation and steaming of a Christmas Pudding takes two days - I figured that the first day was about making the mixture, the second making sure that it was properly made! So there you have it, Christmas with Hermione and Severus! Please leave a review! :)_


	7. Task Eleven & Task Twelve

_Author's Note: Apologies for the lack of an update yesterday - i was incredibly busy, as I was celebrating my nineteenth birthday! As usual, thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter; it's always much appreciated. Here is the next chapter - please read and review! :)_

* * *

_How to Make a Snow Angel_

Severus had always loathed Boxing Day, simply because he wasn't exactly sure what its purpose was. When he had been younger, it had been an excuse for his father to vegetate in front of the television, growing progressively drunk as the old favourites played on repeat. And ever since he had been at Hogwarts, he had been forced to endure the horrific 'Boxing Day feast', which was like a particularly cruel form of torture. In a bid to shorten that day as much as possible, he had slept in remarkably late, and so had no idea what to do or where his young apprentice had got to.

He was walking through the Entrance Hall, having given up his search for Miss Granger and surrendered to lunch in the Great Hall, when he spotted something peculiar through one of the windows. The beautiful expanse of thick, white snow was marred by a small group of figures all cloaked in black. He watched in confusion as the tallest of the group flung themselves onto the floor, much to the amusement of their companions. It was only until the figure clambered to their feet again that he realised it was Hermione. With a small 'humph', he pushed open the door and stepped outside, where the snow was lightly falling once more. He approached the group slowly and carefully, watching as the three first years with whom she was stood also fell to the ground.

"Professor Snape!" Hermione had spotted him, and was waving vigorously with a wide grin on her face. The students leapt to their feet, sharing identical glances of fear and horror at the idea of being caught by their most frightening professor.

"I have been searching for you for some time, Miss Granger. What precisely have you been encouraging Messrs Quigley, Wainwright and Thompson to do on the freezing cold ground?" Hermione smiled at the boys, who seemed to be clutching onto one another as though they were about to be murdered.

"We've been making snow angels! I found some instructions in this book." She waved the pink monstrosity in the direction of the floor, where Snape saw that they had indeed made angels in the snow. "Show Professor Snape how it's done, boys!"

The three children, obviously reassured that they would not be expelled for frolicking in the snow, fell to the ground and led on their backs. They began sweeping their arms and legs, up and down, to create the wings and the gown of the angel. Once they had done, they leapt to their feet and turned to admire their handiwork.

"Very creative." Snape said, but his face did not show the sentiment that his words had expressed.

"Perhaps you would like to try it, sir?" His instant reaction was to glare at Hermione in outrage but, when he turned to look at her, he found her wide-eyed smile so engaging, that he found himself acquiescing to her request.

"Mayhap I could try it this once."

Hermione beamed at him as he fell to the ground, feeling like an absolute imbecile as he led on his back. The feelings of stupidity only increased as he swept his arms as the boys had done, and he quickly jumped up when he had finished, checking in every direction to see if anyone had witnessed it.

"Excellent Professor Snape! What grade would you give him for his work, boys?"

"Exceeds expectations!" Mr Quigley said laughingly.

"I would definitely only give him Acceptable." Mr Thompson added. It seemed that Mr Wainwright was still too terrified to look at him, let alone to mark his efforts.

"I assure you that no work of mine achieves less than Outstanding, boys. See to it that yours is the same." Hermione smiled.

"I suggest you go inside and warm up, boys! Lunch is being served in the Great Hall now, in fact."

The three first year boys began to trail off towards the castle, thumping one another and throwing snow balls as they went. Snape suddenly called them to stop, however.

"A word before you leave, gentlemen! I promise that if you breathe a word of what you have just witnessed, you will be cleaning out my cauldrons with your toothbrushes every evening until you finish your seventh year. Is that understood?" The boys stared at him in horror, before nodding vigorously and sprinting back up to the castle, whilst Hermione laughed.

"Thank you for being such a good sport, Severus! I'm sure those boys won't even think about what they've just seen; they'll be absolutely terrified!"

"Good." Snape replied with a sigh. "I've noticed these past few days, Miss Granger, that you seem to care little for your own health; you must be freezing."

"Well, I have one more instruction to complete and then I'm all finished with today's task."

"And what might that be?"

"The book recommends that I go inside for a mug of mulled wine and a biscuit. Care to join me?"

"Indeed – that is certainly a task that I can support."

* * *

_How to Write the Perfect Thank You Letter_

Once again, Hermione found herself propped up in the corner surrounded by her writing implements, ready to perform yet another task. She had written thank you notes for the whole array of gifts that she had received from her friends and family – a beautiful pair of earrings from her parents, the traditional jumper from Mrs Weasley, a giant box of expensive truffles from Harry and a magic picture of the three of them in a frame from Ron. However, she had decided to save her day's task to write a particularly special letter to Snape. After all, he'd given her such a wonderful gift, and he was her employer. Plus, of course, she did sort of want to impress him. So, arranging her expensive paper and the fancy embossing-quill in front of her, she began to write and followed the tips in the book.

_Dear Severus,_

_Thank you so very much for the wonderful perfume that you made and gave me for Christmas. I am extremely grateful for such a thoughtful gift, and I shall be sorely disappointed when I use it up – which I most certainly shall, for I intend to wear it very often. I was also incredibly grateful for the effort which you took to wrap the gift by hand; the paper was beautiful and, although you may not have noticed, I have kept the ribbon to tie back my hair – perhaps you may have less reason to complain when it is not as wild and unruly as usual? Once again, thank you._

_Yours, _

_Hermione._

She smiled at the letter and folded it in half, sealing it with the matching gold wax that she had purchased. On the front, she used the quill to write his name and address and was exceedingly pleased with the finished product. A beautifully written and presented thank you letter, produced with the help of her constant companion, the bright pink book that seemed to be her indispensable guide to life. Hermione had decided that she would send the letter to Severus by owl, and so she reflected on the book as she climbed the stairs to the Owlery. It was strange, really, what that little self-help book had done for her. It was even more peculiar that it had brought her and Severus closer together in a matter of days than they had been throughout the rest of her apprenticeship. Perhaps it had provided the kick up the backside she had needed? 'Wipe out boredom and fall head-over-heels for a complex and deeply irritating man!' – That should have been the slogan on the front of the book.

As Hermione reached the top of the Owlery, she did a double-take when she saw that it was already occupied. By Severus. Hiding the letter behind her back, Hermione cleared her throat. He turned, and a small smile appeared on his face.

"It seems we both had the same idea." Snape said. "If you'd asked, I would've brought your letter up with my own." Hermione simply remained stood on the spot and smiled.

"Well, if you've finished sending yours, I shall see you back at the rooms!"

"I shall wait for you. We may as well return together..." Hermione gave a frustrated sigh and stepped forwards, choosing an owl and discretely tying her letter to its foot. She watched as it flew out of the window, before turning back to Severus. "May I ask who you were writing to?"

"Oh nobody. It was just a thank you letter."

When they arrived back at the rooms, Hermione could have died of embarrassment when she saw the owl she had used perched on the windowsill. What had, earlier, seemed such a sweet idea, now seemed just a little bit, well, pitiful. Snape frowned at the owl, before looking at Hermione with a quizzical expression.

"Forgive me if I am mistaken, but isn't that the owl that you dispatched just moments ago?"

"I do believe it is." Hermione replied through gritted teeth. Snape stepped forwards and removed the letter from the bird's foot, and his confusion only seemed to increase when he read his own name written on it.

"Did you send this letter to me?" He asked, frowning.

"Yes, yes I did!" Hermione flopped onto the sofa and folded her arms. "It was my task for today, but now I feel like an utter fool."

With a bemused smirk on his face, Snape opened the letter and quickly began to read it. Hermione sat in silence, cringing and mentally chastising herself for completely losing her sanity over one ridiculous man. Once Severus had finished reading, he stared at her steadily for a moment, before smiling.

"I thank you very much for this thank you letter, but you could have just handed it to me over breakfast." Hermione gave a disgruntled grunt, but she couldn't prevent the swooping feeling in her stomach as he laughed aloud. She hardly ever heard him laugh like that – in fact, the only other time she had was when they had been making the Christmas pudding. It thrilled her, she supposed, that she had the power to make this notoriously miserable man actually _laugh_.

"I feel like an idiot." She said, covering her burning red face with her hands. "You weren't supposed to be there when I sent it, nor was I supposed to be there when you received it!" Snape moved over to the fireplace, still chortling quietly to himself, and he propped the parchment on top of the mantelpiece.

"You needn't be so terribly embarrassed – it was a kind gesture." Snape turned to look at her though, wearing an incredibly mocking smirk. "But I intend to keep this here so I see it every day; a constant reminder of the vivid scarlet colour of your face."

Hermione let out another embarrassed yelp, and a cushion suddenly collided with Severus' head.


	8. Task Thirteen & Task Fourteen

_How to Tell When a Man Fancies You_

Hermione sat in the headmistress' office opposite Minerva, a small cup of tea in hand and a rather large slice of fruit cake on a plate in front of her. Minerva had been extolling the many virtues of her nephew for at least half an hour, in a very misguided attempt at setting Hermione up with him. There was absolutely no chance that it would ever happen, despite Minerva's persuasive speech, because Hermione had already met 'dear Andrew McGonagall' and had very definitely come to the conclusion that she did not find 30-year-old mummy's boys attractive. Not even if he did have a first from Oxford and a 'very enthusiastic love for all things muggle'.

"I'm terribly sorry, Minerva, but I really don't think it would work out." The headmistress gave a sigh.

"Why ever not? He's just your type." Hermione toyed with the frilly tablecloth, keeping her eyes fixed quite determinedly on the floral pattern. She found it somewhat offensive to think that someone so arrogant, simpering and foolish was considered to be 'just her type'.

"I just...I'm interested in someone else, that's all."

"Is it Mr Weasley again? Because I assure you, Hermione, that you can do much better."

"No it isn't Ron, although I do appreciate your advice. It's someone...oh it's someone much more inappropriate." The headmistress suddenly fell silent and, when Hermione hazarded a glance at her, she gave her a very excited grin.

"Oh! _Oh! _It's Severus, isn't it? Do tell me I'm correct!" Hermione gave a sigh; she hadn't been aware that she was so transparent.

"Yes, you are correct, although it's nothing to be excited about. He certainly isn't interested in me."

"But how can you be sure?"

How could she be sure? Well, it was obvious, wasn't it? Why would Severus Snape ever have an interest in her? She was young enough to be his daughter, had a mass of horrible hair, a slightly larger bottom than she would have liked, and he found her unbearably irritating. Of course, they had been getting along better than ever recently, but she was sure that that was due to the holidays. When school was back in session, and work on her apprenticeship had recommenced, Hermione knew it would be back to normal. She would spend her evenings sat on her bed alone again, whilst he ignored her in the other room. The very idea of it made her miserable.

"It's impossible, Minerva. But it's no worry, for I shall soon have completed my apprenticeship, I'll have left the castle and need never to think of him again."

"I don't believe it for an instant, and your attempts at nonchalance are unconvincing! There must be a way to find out if he's interested without asking him directly."

Hermione had seen instructions in her book on exactly this topic, but it seemed like a fruitless exercise when she knew what the result would be. However, Minerva seemed intent on trying it anyway, so Hermione pulled the book out of her bag and passed it to her former head of house. Minerva cleared her throat, before reading aloud.

"There is a list of things to look out for here. The first one is 'erect posture' – clearly in the deportment sense, so lift your mind from the gutter Hermione." Hermione spluttered her tea. "Apparently a man who fancies you will 'pull in his gut, stand or sit up more erect and puff out his chest'. Does he do this?"

"He's stood like that for as long as I've known him." Hermione said miserably, to which Minerva sighed.

"I suppose you're right. Next on the list...'when he is trying to conceal his interest in you, he will not turn towards you but will subconsciously point his foot in your direction'..."

"I don't look at his feet very often, Minerva!"

"Well next time, remember to." She clucked her tongue. "According to this, a subtle signal is the raising of eyebrows, but Severus does that with everybody..."

"Oh Minerva! This is useless! He does all of these things all the time! The only conclusion to be made is that he doesn't fancy me at all!"

"How about crotch display? Does he ever spread his legs in your direction?"

"_Minerva_!" Hermione snatched the book from her hands with a sigh. "Forget it. Severus Snape does not fancy me, and that is the end of it."

* * *

_How to Pour Beer for a Gentleman_

"How was your tea with Minerva yesterday? I meant to ask, but forgot." Severus looked over at Hermione from his position in the armchair by the fire. She was lounging on the sofa, a muggle novel propped up in front of her, but she squirmed uncomfortably at his question. What if he could read her as easily as Minerva had? Perhaps he'd known of her interest in him all along, and hadn't said anything to spare the embarrassment? Hermione cringed inwardly, and began to panic; in a bid to distract him, she tried to change the subject a little.

"It was as you might expect; she talked and I listened. She tried to set me up with her nephew."

"Ah, Andrew McGonagall." Severus said with mock fondness. He had met Andrew several times over the years, and could never understand why Minerva was so enamoured of him. He was snobby and rude, but seemed to lack any kind of backbone. Severus loathed him. "He would make any girl a fine catch." He added, mimicking Minerva's soppy tone. Hermione smiled.

"I refused flatly, of course, but she pushed the issue."

"Well, that's Minerva."

Severus went back to reading his newspaper, but he could see that Hermione had not continued to read her novel. She picked the pink book and flicked over a few pages, before stopping and scanning the instructions.

"Accio ale!" A bottle of ale flew across the room to her, and she caught it gracefully. "My task today is to pour a beer properly. Do you want one? The task specifies it has to be for a man, but I can always do it for myself."

"I'll have it, if you don't mind."

Hermione nodded and summoned a glass, before producing a muggle bottle opener from the pocket of her robe. Snape watched as she opened the bottle of ale, and gently placed the tip of the bottle against the glass. She poured it slowly, until the pint glass was filled to the top. Placing it on the coffee table in front of him, she stepped back and grinned.

"Is that right?" She asked. Snape picked it up and sipped it.

"It tastes excellent, and the head is right, so I presume you have poured it correctly." Hermione flopped back onto the sofa and folded her arms across her chest as she stared into the fire pensively. After a moment, she let out a sigh.

"Don't you think it's strange that I will be completely finished in just one month?"

"One month is still a rather long time."

"It isn't really." Hermione pulled up her knees and rested her chin on them. "The time will pass swiftly once we start working again, and I'll soon be moving out."

Her words hit Severus like the Hogwarts Express charging full speed ahead towards him. She would leave him. Up until that moment, Severus had not fully been aware of how much he valued her company. He was quite fond of their discussions about literature and, more recently, music, and he really did enjoy working and living alongside her. How would it feel when he had to dine alone once more? When he would no longer be met with her wide-eyed smile and her requests for his company? Severus knew that Hermione had a bright future ahead of her; he could hope that, at the very least, she would have a few fond memories of her apprenticeship, but he knew that her mind would nevertheless be concentrated on her future. She would probably meet some little upstart like Andrew McGonagall and they would get married and have a family, and in eleven years or so he would have to watch her little brat in his classroom. He could just picture a little girl, the exact copy of her mother with big hair, wide eyes and an insatiable stream of questions – a constant reminder of, if he had taken the chance, what could have been. But what would happen to him? He would be left at Hogwarts, all alone in the absolute silence of his rooms, pining for her company. It seemed, in that moment, that a very bleak future awaited him.

"What do you suppose you shall do?" Severus asked, his throat feeling slightly narrower than it had a moment ago. "When you are finally free?"

"Who knows?" Hermione replied, somewhat sadly he thought. "I'll have to get a job, I guess, find somewhere to live...You'll be glad when your rooms are peaceful and clutter-free again?" _No, no, no! _He wanted to shout. _Stay, clutter up everything if you must! Just don't leave! _

"I suppose," was what he said aloud. Hermione stared at him for a moment, as though willing him to say something else. Should he tell her that he...admired her? Should he tell her that he wanted her to stay? It was the opera ticket situation all over again, but this time the outcome really mattered. Suddenly, Hermione smiled and stretched her arms above her head.

"I think I'll go to bed now." She stood and walked over to the door that led to her bedroom but, before she entered it, she stopped and turned. "I know that we still have three months left, but I just want you to know how much I appreciate everything you've done for me. I'll miss..._this_." She waved her hand and smiled sadly; Snape thought, for one horrific moment, that she was about to cry. "Good night, Severus."

As Severus sat alone in the sitting room, he finally reached the conclusion that had been a very long time in coming. He admired, liked, wanted, _fancied_ (whatever word one uses) Hermione Granger. He didn't want her to go anywhere; in fact he'd like it if she stayed for the rest of the foreseeable future. He just needed to find some way of stopping her from leaving.

_Severus old boy_, he thought to himself, _you're going to have to tell her, before it's too late._

* * *

_Author's Note: There we have it, the next chap! Thanks, as always, to those who dilligently reviewed my fic! And many thanks too for those who wished me happy birthday - it's much appreciated! :) There are two more chapters left, and then this fic is over! :( So take your opportunity and review! :D Thanks!_


	9. Task Fifteen & Task Sixteen

_How to Get a Spider Out of the Bath_

After a restless night, Severus had finally summoned enough courage to confess all to Hermione. He had spent all morning in front of his bedroom mirror, practicing various ways to break the truth to her and plotting swift means of escape for when it all went wrong; he had come to the conclusion that simply bolting for the door and locking himself in a broom closet was the most feasible of all ideas. He had at first contemplated simply apparating to Fiji but, as Hermione would be no doubt swift to tell him, it was impossible to apparate on the Hogwarts grounds. With a sigh, Severus finally withdrew himself from the haven of his bedroom to find Hermione. It was much to his surprise to discover that, when he stepped into the sitting room, she was nowhere to be seen, despite the fact that she had said she would be there all day. Giving a small huff, Severus thought about where she might have gone, but was soon interrupted when a loud shriek came from the direction of the bathroom.

Death Eaters, fire, raving muggle gun man that somehow stumbled into Hogwarts. Those were the things that instantly flashed into Severus' mind as the source of Hermione's fear. Without thinking, Severus whipped his wand from his pocket and blasted open the door of the bathroom, only to find Hermione standing there wrapped in a bath towel with dripping wet hair.

"Severus!" She shrieked again, flinging her arms around herself. "What in the name of Circe are you doing?"

"I heard your scream and presumed you were in danger! What made you scream like that?" With a sheepish smile, Hermione pointed a finger towards the direction of the bath. Severus stepped forwards, and instantly saw what she had been afraid of. "A spider?"

Hermione blushed and shifted uncomfortably, tightly gripping onto the towel that hid her modesty. With a discomfited sigh, she bent over and picked up the pink book that led discarded on the floor.

"Ron Weasley isn't the only one with a fear of spiders. I was _trying _to be brave and follow the instructions in the book on how to get rid of it, but..." Her blush deepened, and Severus raised an eyebrow.

"_But?_"

"It touched my hand." Snape gave a snort of laughter, as Hermione sighed again and irritably put her hand on her hip. "I can't help but be disgusted by them. I tried hitting it with the shampoo bottle like the book suggested, then I sprayed it with some hairspray and that didn't work either. I was about to squash it with the loofah but, like I said, it touched me." Snape smirked at her.

"So what shall your next attempt at ridding our bathroom of the little monster be?"

"Well you see, the book suggests that, as a last resort, I should ask a man, so..."

Snape gave her a withering glance, before bending down and scooping the spider into his hands. He left the bathroom and opened the door that led into the corridor, before tossing it outside. When he returned to the bathroom, Hermione looked at him expectantly.

"Well, did you kill it?"

"No. I threw it out into the hall."

"But...but what if it gets back _in_?"

"If I do not accidentally trample on it on my way out, Mrs Norris shall dine on it for breakfast. You needn't worry about a spider anyway, Hermione. Didn't it occur to you to just levitate it from the bath with your wand?" The deep blush on her face suggested that it had not.

For a moment, they stood together in a very awkward silence. Severus watched as a steady trail of water dripped from Hermione's hair, before tumbling down the pale expanse of her neck. He gulped as it disappeared beneath the towel, and looked up to see that she was staring at him with unguarded bafflement. He really ought to have told her then – after all, there was sufficient silence for him to fill with such a confession, and he had already built up the courage. The courage that was swiftly escaping down the drain with the last of her bath water. He doubted that Hermione would be receptive to such a repulsive notion, so soon after suffering the trauma of being touched by a spider, and it was hardly seemly to confess one's lust for another person, when said person was barely wearing any clothing... _No, no, Severus, _he thought to himself, _save it for another day._

"Severus, I feel like there's something you want to say." Hermione said suddenly, biting her lip anxiously. "You look as if you want to speak...do you?"

"Ah..." Severus licked his lips. "No, no. I have nothing more to say about the matter. Well, do excuse me; I ought to continue with...ah...whatever I was doing."

Severus turned swiftly and left her staring after him dumbly. He was already kicking himself for putting off the inevitable once more.

* * *

_How to Make a Sausage Dog Draught Excluder_

Once again, Hermione sat cross-legged on her bed with the curtains drawn tightly around her. It was the last day of the challenge, New Years Eve, and she only had a matter of hours left until it was complete and her boredom had been cured. Well, at least in theory. Surrounding her on the bed was a motley assortment of different things she needed to complete her sixteenth and final challenge; in particular, lots of scraps from old clothing that she had taken much joy in attacking with a pair of scissors. It truly helped her to vent her feelings of frustration that seemed to arise whenever she thought of the fact that Severus just wasn't interested in her. Hell, he'd even been staring at her half-dressed yesterday and didn't seem moved by it. Giving a sigh, Hermione picked up the scissors and gave a satisfyingly loud 'snip' of the thread that she was currently holding in her hands.

She was making a sausage dog draught excluder, as it had been the only challenge left that she thought she would be able to complete; the striptease had sounded fun, but she had no one to do it for, and she really hadn't been interested in learning how to parallel park, so it had been her only choice. At that moment in time, she was just about to begin stuffing the black velvet 'body' of the dog with the oddments of material that she had collected – she had already finished the head, complete with black buttons for eyes and a rather wobbly, smiling hand-sewn mouth. Picking up her thick grey woolly jumper that she had happily torn to shreds, Hermione was ready to begin, but the curtains were suddenly flung open. Severus.

"Oh, there you are." Hermione stared at him dumfounded, especially as he looked so painfully mortified at the notion that he was standing by her bed. Hermione sighed.

"Yes, Severus? How can I help you?" She found, however, that he was not listening to what she was saying. Instead, he was staring at her craft work with a disgusted curiosity.

"I rather liked that jumper. May I ask why you've decimated it?"

"I'm making a draught excluder." Hermione gave a sigh. "I was going to give it to you as a gift, when I leave, because I know how cold the dungeons can get, and you never remember to use a Warming Charm!"

"So you were going to give me this?" He picked up the head that she had made, and looked at it with a mocking smirk. Suddenly, however, the smile slipped from his face and was replaced with a look of determined concentration. Hermione felt her stomach churn and her heart flip when she became the subject of it, and his eyes bore into hers unflinchingly. "I don't want it." Hermione let out a gasp of disbelief.

"I know that I'm terrible at sewing, Severus, but at least it will function how it's supposed to..."

"It's nothing to do with your craftsmanship." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't want it because I don't need it...because you may continue casting the Warming Charm yourself...if you would like to, of course." Severus widened his eyes and bobbed his head a little, as if indicating that Hermione should understand his meaning. However, try as she might, she really could not comprehend what he was trying to say.

"Have I failed my apprenticeship, is that what you mean? Will I have to stay on a few more months to complete it? I...I'm not entirely sure why I've failed; I mean...I thought everything was going so well! You said my research was fine, and my work exemplary." Hermione leapt to her feet, tossing her work to one side, and began to pace the length of the room. "Oh God! I'm going to be a laughingstock! The first ever Hogwarts apprentice, and I've failed! What am I going to do?"

Hermione let out a startled gasp when, out of the blue, Severus grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him. She let out an 'oomph' as their bodies collided, and stared up at him in shock as he wrapped his arms around her waist. That shock was nothing, however, to the surprise that Hermione felt when he brought his face down to hers and gently brushed his lips against hers in a tender and heartfelt kiss.

"Oh." Hermione said quietly, somewhat dazed when he finally pulled away. "I suppose that's one way to soften the blow of failure."

"You're an imbecile, do you know that?" Severus asked, staring at her aghast. "You haven't failed anything! In fact, I'm not certain that your brilliant mind could even contemplate what failure _is_! I have been trying, for several days now in fact, to tell you how much I _admire _you and how bloody much I don't want you to leave!"

Hermione stared up at him, her cheeks flushed and her heart pounding furiously in her chest. Did he say what she thought he'd said? Did he just _kiss _her? She was pretty certain that he had, but she supposed she'd better check. Tentatively, Hermione lifted up onto her tiptoes and gently kissed him again. When he did not run away in fright, or send an _Avada Kedavra _her way, Hermione pulled away and let out a quiet laugh.

"Do you really fancy me? Because I was absolutely convinced that you don't; I mean, you never spread your legs in my direction like Minerva said you ought to, so how was I ever supposed to tell?" She let out another giggle. "Do you? Do you _really _not want me to go?"

"I would be perfectly content if you never left the castle again – not even to go to Hogsmeade." He sighed. "Are my feelings returned?"

"Of course they bloody well are!" Hermione gasped, looking at him with wide eyes. "Hasn't it been obvious? What with the Turkish Delight, the opera tickets, the Christmas Pudding...?" Severus shook his head, and Hermione laughed again. "Well, I suppose I ought to be clearer in future, then."

Hermione reached up again, and they kissed once more. She felt incredibly light-headed, dazed and just a little confused. But she was thrilled to know that, despite all of the book's insistences to the contrary, Severus _did _fancy her. She wanted desperately to run to Minerva's office and announce the good news, but supposed that it was best kept for the New Year's celebrations that night. Eventually, they drifted apart and Hermione gave a sigh, looking over at the unfinished work on her bed.

"You really needn't finish the monstrous thing." Severus said quietly. "After all, I may presume that I shall not need it?"

"I really rather like it." Hermione grinned and waved her wand, completing the draught excluder by magic. "If I stay, the dog stays; it'll look really nice in the sitting room, don't you think?"

"No. It is repulsive."

"Well it's tough." Hermione picked it up and carried it over to the door but, before she left, she turned to face Severus again. "Are you coming? We'll be late for the feast!"

Hermione held out her hand and Severus took it, lacing his fingers through hers, before they walked to the feast together.

* * *

_Author's Note: Finally, they're together! And finally, I have added the next chapter! I apologise for the wait for this one. I had written a completely different chapter, with two different challenges, but it just didn't fit with the mood of the fic - at least I didn't think so - so I had to create a completely new one! I think I may post the original chapter though, because I thought it was quite funny. Anyway, there's just a tiny epilogue of sorts left, and then the fic is over! :( So, please leave a review! :) Thanks to all those who read and reviewed the last chapter!_


	10. How To Mix A Harvey Wallbanger

_How to Mix a Harvey Wallbanger_

With the final dregs of the wine drunk, the last of the celebrations attended, and the students back at the castle, life swiftly returned to normal. Well, almost. Severus naturally continued chastising the little idiots in his classroom, handing out detentions like sweets to unsuspecting misbehavers, and relishing the thrill of removing copious amounts of house points. Hermione recommenced the work for her apprenticeship; she buried her head in books, was always scribbling notes, and was often spotted running through the halls with a flushed face and panicked mumblings about 'deadlines'. To everyone else, students and staff alike, it was as if the Christmas holidays had never even happened, but for Hermione and Severus...well, when the frantic rushing of the day was done, they could settle in front of the fire and pretend that school had never begun again. The wine would flow once more, along with the conversation, and they would go to bed with reeling heads and a swift dance of removing clothes amidst passionate embraces.

The month of January passed quickly and, before either of them had even really noticed, Hermione's final dissertation had been written and sent off to the Ministry. On the 31st, Minerva called students and staff into the Great Hall for a celebratory feast in Hermione's honour – which, still being the slightly awkward and limelight-shy girl she was, Hermione wasn't exactly pleased about.

"As I am sure you are all aware, Hermione Granger has been working at Hogwarts for these past three years as Professor Snape's apprentice, working towards the accolade of Potions Mistress" Minerva said, addressing the entire school, as Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat.. "Hermione has completed the requisite training, and so it is with great pride that I hereby announce Hermione to be Professor Hermione Granger!"

Hermione stood up from her position at the top table and moved to stand by Minerva's side. The older woman offered her the certificate that proved her qualification, before shaking Hermione's hand in congratulations. Hermione grinned at her, before turning nervously to face the students.

"Thank you very much, Professor McGonagall. And many thanks to Professor Snape too, for his help and support these past three years." Hermione nodded graciously as the students applauded, before returning to her seat. She squeezed Snape's hand beneath the table, flashing him a smile as he inspected her certificate.

Minerva accompanied Hermione and Severus back to their rooms after the feast, and was somewhat surprised when she was confronted with piles upon piles of boxes.

"What on earth is going on? You needn't move straight away, Hermione! I shan't see you on the street." Hermione laughed.

"You needn't panic, Minerva. I've managed to rent a flat down in Hogsmeade, so I'm not going too far away."

"But how shall you pay for it? You haven't found a job yet!" Hermione smiled fondly at Severus.

"Well actually I have. Severus used his connections and got me a research job for the Ministry, so I can work from home and only need to visit London once a month to report back to them. So unfortunately, you are likely to see me just as often as you do now!" Minerva surprised both Snape and Hermione, as she stepped forwards and gave the younger girl a tight hug.

"There is nothing at all unfortunate about that! Congratulations Hermione, I knew you would make a success of it." She stepped away and sighed. "Very well, I shall leave you two to celebrate and pack up together!"

When the door shut, Hermione walked over to the bookcase and plucked a familiar pink book from the shelf. She flicked through the pages, before stopping and nodding.

"Are you still trying to decide if I fancy you?" Severus teased, smirking at her from the sofa. "I _had _hoped that you would have figured it out by now; I've given you plenty of hints."

"_No_." Hermione replied, rolling her eyes with a smile.. "I thought I'd try just one last task."

"Oh Lord, what shall I have to endure next? Swinging upside-down on a trapeze? Or a complete guide on how to use a whip?"

"No!" Hermione giggled. "Although, if you must know, _both _of those things are in this little book! And if you carry on being so sarcastic, it will be 'How to write a Dear John letter'!"

"Perhaps you can send it to me by owl from this room, whilst I stand in the bedroom?"

"Oh shut up!" She said, sticking out her tongue. "I was actually going to do something quite pleasant, but now I've changed my mind." Severus knew she hadn't though, when she left for the kitchens and promised she'd back shortly.

She returned ten minutes later carrying several bottles, which she placed down on the table before transfiguring two ordinary glasses into Martini glasses. Severus watched, intrigued, as she began to measure different spirits and liqueurs, before shaking it and pouring the liquid into the two glasses. She garnished it with a slice of orange, before handing it to him with a smile.

"A Harvey Wallbanger!"

"I beg your pardon?" Severus replied, smirking.

"It's a cocktail! I thought we would toast our success."

"Very well. To Professor Hermione Granger!"

"And to 211 Ways to Keep a Bright Girl Entertained!" Hermione grinned over the top of her glass, as they both took sips of the mixture. "Mmm, it isn't that bad, is it?"

"No, it isn't that bad at all." Severus smirked. "It seems there aren't many things that a bright girl _can't _do." Hermione responded with a smile of her own.

"I'll certainly drink to that!"

* * *

_Author's Note: Many many many thanks for all of those who have followed this story and reviewed! This is the very last chapter, an epilogue of sorts I suppose, and thus is the end of Things a Bright Girl Can Do! If you're interested in trying any of the things that Hermione did for yourself, I highly recommend buying the book 211 Things a Bright Girl Can Do by Bunty Cutler. It is in fact bright pink, and you can learn how to mix a Harvey Wallbanger, make a sausage dog draught excluder, or even figure out whether a man fancies you or not! It's incredibly funny too. As I'm moving away to university for the first time ever next week, and I'll have to learn to wash my own clothes whilst getting incredibly drunk and somehow fitting some work in there, I'm going to be going on hiatus for a little while! I'm not sure how long for, but hopefully some new inspirations will come my way in the little town of Durham. Who knows? Anyway, thanks again for your reviews - keep 'em coming! :) _


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